


Lost One, Do You Want to Be Found?

by CassieSalvatore_Hale



Series: Laura and Her Boys [3]
Category: The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cutting, Implied Previous Self-Harm, Self-Harm, Verbal Abuse, Violence, accidental suicide attempt, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieSalvatore_Hale/pseuds/CassieSalvatore_Hale
Summary: Laura plans on getting her brothers to finally believe in her by taking on a group of vampires; she implements her plan flawlessly but the one thing she didn't plan on was herself.
Series: Laura and Her Boys [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809178
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Lost One, Do You Want to Be Found?

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before the first one, to the point that the last words of this one take place DIRECTLY BEFORE the first story.
> 
> Also, TRIGGER WARNING. Laura is an emotionally unstable and violent person, but especially to herself. There is only so much verbal abuse she can take and it's implied that what happens in this story is not the first time it's happened. So, I repeat, TRIGGER WARNING. SELF-HARM. CUTTING. Please do not read if that is going to trigger you. Please be safe.
> 
> The title is from the song The Dark by Beth Crowley

Her brothers were so sure that she didn’t believe them about all the vampire stuff, but she did, mostly. They had no official proof, but she did. She’d watched the four boys who made up a motorcycle gang; _The Lost Boys_. Her brothers suspected them, but they didn’t really _know_ , not like she did. She’d watched them, paid close attention, waited patiently. She noticed that every time someone got on the back of their bikes, they wouldn’t be seen again; a few days later, their faces would appear on the _Missing Persons_ Board.

At first, she wondered how no one else noticed, but then she realized; they noticed, the were just too scared to ever do anything. So, she began planning. Her brothers wanted to think she was useless, that because she was a girl, she couldn’t help them; she’d show them. She’d take at least one of them out; if they managed to take her out as well, then as far as she was concerned, it was a win-win. She spent weeks planning. She couldn’t figure out how to catch their interest without things ending with all of them alive, and her body in the ocean. Then she figured it out. When the time came, she implemented her plan and hell if it didn’t work better than she _ever_ thought possible.

Annoying a couple of Surf Nazi’s at the beginning of sunset enough for them to corner her in an alley later in the night was almost too easy; she’d always been a pain in their ass as she wasn’t intimidated by them. The clearing of her mind, the sharpening of her vision, and the ice filling her veins were all embraced with a welcoming that she had never had before; she’d spent years pushing away the ice, the clarity, the lack of emotion, but now she practically dived head-first into it. When she was well and truly submerged in what she had deemed her ‘dark side’, she let the Surf Nazi pinning her bodily against the brick wall **_have it_**.

Faster than he could comprehend, she’d thrown him to the ground with a cry, pinning him and gripping both sides of his head. With no emotion beyond a twisted grin splitting her face, she’d smashed his head into the ground, over and over. From somewhere far away, she could hear shouts, felt hands on her trying to pull her off the guy but she paid it no mind. However, she was jerked out of her mind when the hands were abruptly yanked off her with such force that she was sent onto her back; her head hit the ground and her vision swam as she was snapped right out of her dark side.

She blinked a couple of times to clear her vision and saw three boys tearing the Surf Nazi’s apart, quite literally; one was a brunette Native American with a leopard patch on his jacket, the second was a blonde with windswept hair that reminded her of Bon Jovi, and the third was shorter and younger-looking than the other two, with a jacket that looked like it’d been made out of several different kinds of patches all stitched together. It took her several long seconds to realize that they were part of the gang she was trying to lure in. In the seconds that followed her realization, she had just enough time to begin to wonder where the leader was before she heard a soft voice calling to her. She lifted her head to focus above/in front of her, no longer looking upside down at the three boys; her dark green eyes met ice-blue eyes swirling with amusement, and was that concern?

The leader flashed her an honestly relieved smile. “There you are.” His tone was surprisingly kind but laced with amusement.

“Welcome back, chica,” said Windswept Blonde.

“We thought we lost ya there, girl,” said Crazy Patches.

“Yeah.” Leopard Patch’s addition was quiet compared to his friends.

“For a moment there, you almost did.” She realized her tone was as exhausted as she suddenly felt. She flashed them a grateful smile. “Thanks for the help.”

They returned her smile with their own grins.

“It was our pleasure,” answered the leader. He helped her to her feet, introducing himself and his boys.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you four. I’m Laura.”

* * *

Her plan had worked so perfectly that the one thing she hadn’t counted on was herself. She flawlessly integrated herself into their undead lives, which only served to make her homelife with her brothers worse; she couldn’t tell them her plans but they wouldn’t stop berating her. _You’re going to get yourself killed if you continue hanging out with them. You’re so stupid if you think they won’t kill you._ She’d expected their words, their reaction; she hadn’t expected her own.

She had spent weeks listening to them berate her whenever she was home and she just…couldn’t take it any longer. She shoved past Edgar even as he continued to claim she was stupid; her eyes burned with tears that she refused to shed in his presence. Alan silently watched her leave; he was _always_ silent.

She found an alley where she would be alone and practically collapsed against one of the walls. Her back pressed hard against the brick wall as she reached shaking hands into her right boot, pulling out cold metal. She yanked the long sleeve of her shirt up her left arm, flicking open her pocketknife; she could hardly see the numerous scars on her arm through her tears. Paul flashed in her mind for a brief moment; he’d asked her a question a week ago; he’d been wondering why she always wore long-sleeved shirts, even if she wore shorts. She hadn’t answered him, instead distracting him with music to stay off the topic.

She choked on a sob and pressed the blade firmly to her skin, dragging it sharply across her arm; she nearly sighed in relief at the physical pain as it slowly chased away the emotional one. Tears streamed down her face and she nearly collapsed to the ground, just barely catching herself enough that she merely slid down the brick wall. For several minutes, all she did was cry and cut until the shaking of her hands and the tiredness creeping up on her prevented her from being able to make any clean cuts.

The pocketknife slipped from her grip as she relaxed against the brick wall, her eyes hooded, and half-closed; she was getting really sleepy now. She heard the quiet clatter of metal on stone as her pocketknife hit the ground, but then she heard what she thought might’ve been a quiet growl. She hissed in pain when a hand closed around her wrist, fingers pressing into one of the sluggishly bleeding cuts. Her eyes refused to focus, and she didn’t have the strength to really lift her head to see who had a hold of her. She could barely make out words now, someone was speaking to her, but the voice was distorted; it sounded faraway. She slipped into unconsciousness before she could figure out what was being said.

* * *

She awoke to bandages on her arm, her head pounding painfully from her breakdown as well as blood loss; she was surprised she was still alive. When she finally managed to force her eyes open and pull herself into a sitting position, she was so heavy, she found herself in the boys’ cave. She’d only been there a handful of times over the last couple of weeks, but it was easy to recognize; how had she gotten there?

“You’re awake.”

Her head snapped to her left and she saw David sitting in his wheelchair like it was a throne. He was watching her, his expression calm, but the look in his ice-blue eyes belied his concern and fury. She could feel Paul, Marko, and Dwayne’s eyes on her; which one had found her?

“I am…” She wanted to make a quip about being alive, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate it, nor find it funny.

“You’ve been keeping things from us.” His voice was almost _cold_.

She flashed a sarcastic smile. “You have _no_ idea.”

His eyes darkened and he reached to grab something just out of her line of sight. When he pulled it up, she saw a heavily bejeweled wine bottle hanging from his fingers; she knew without a doubt what was in it.

“Drink?”

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone is wondering, Dwayne is the one that found her. He smelt the blood and heard her crying.


End file.
